


Sub at First Sight

by sksdwrld



Series: Asterisk [19]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Japanese Rope Bondage, Light Bondage, M/M, No Aftercare, Past Sexual Abuse, Rope Bondage, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot meets someone at his monthly rope bondage meet up, but as usual, nothing goes to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sub at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Elliot is about 34 here.

It was the second Friday of the month which meant that Elliot was getting off on the first train stop, walking three blocks to the hotel on the corner, and taking the stairs to the third floor (rather than the third stop, going two blocks to his apartment complex, and taking the elevator to the sixth floor). At the far end of the hallway was the smallest conference room. The door was open at a woman named Izzy was standing at the door. He smiled at her in greeting and pulled a crisp ten-dollar bill from the front pocket of his blazer.

"Punctual as always, Elliot." She grinned and tucked his payment into an envelope. 

"You know me," he murmured as he slipped inside. Something about loitering in the hallway still made him nervous after all this time. It was probably the thought that someone he knew could step around the corner at any moment and see him there, and somehow know what he was there for; that he would be mocked for his proclivities and inclinations. Never mind that there was not a scrap of information anywhere advertising that this was a meeting for those with a penchant for the art of Japanese rope tying. 

There were four other people there and Elliot smiled at each of them in turn but made a beeline for the refreshment table to pour himself a sprite with a splash of cranberry juice, mostly for color. He'd been coming to this meeting for nearly a year and there was a core of frequent flyers with whom he was acquainted, but there was always a few new faces. Some of them would return, but others might quietly excuse themselves before the break. Still others were too boisterous, or obnoxiously inappropriate, or expected a fetish club experience instead of a motley crew of aging kinksters. 

Elliot was none of those things. He was a quiet observer, a contemplator of scenarios, a note-taker. Rarely was he a participant, lacking both a partner and the courage to stand up in front of the group. The story was the same for the dungeon club that met on Sunday mornings in Brookline and the leather club that met on the third Wednesday of every month, and even the club that Elliot sometimes went to on Saturday nights. He wasn't sure why he went, other than the fact that he was lonely and the people who were in the scene were some of the most accepting he'd ever met. That, and after all this time, Elliot felt an inexplicable pull to certain activities that he'd engaged with back when he was with Daniel. 

He knew that he could never be rid of that part of himself. He'd spent over a decade denying it, ignoring it and repressing it only to have it rear it's ugly head time and time again. Finally, Elliot had just decided to embrace it; quietly, safely, and with a set of rules that he'd put in place just to prevent himself from getting in over his head with the few people he met and engaged with. 

Number one was _always choose women over men_ and two was _never play with the same man twice_.The last and most important rule was, _never bring anyone home_. They were all safeguards against having his delicate heart broken, or worse, finding himself in another unfulfilling pseudo-relationship. 

As Elliot sipped his drink and waited for the clock hands to point to 7:30, he wandered the edges of the room, listening to the snatches of conversation that floated his way and waving to the other regulars as they came in. As he made his third circuit, warm and robust laughter echoed throughout the room. Elliot looked toward the door and his stomach flopped at the sight of the man propped against the frame. He was tall and broad-shouldered with narrow hips. His blonde hair was cropped at the sides, slightly longer and spiked on top, and his smile seemed warm and genuine. 

"Ah, so that's what it takes to get on your radar..." a curvaceous, dark-haired woman named Sabrina winked at Elliot. 

Elliot wiped the corners of his mouth and glanced at her. "I'm not sure what you mean." 

"Well, you stopped pacing a hole in the floor and you're drooling." 

Flushing slightly, Elliot forced himself to shrug. "New meat, that's all." 

"Except you're the one who wants to be devoured." 

"It doesn't matter," Elliot said and shifted from foot to foot. "He's flirting with Izzy." 

"She's Ace." Sabrina grinned. 

"So? He doesn't look queer, is what I'm trying to say." 

"So? I wasn't aware there was a dress code." 

"Shut up," Elliot said and took a large swallow of his drink just as Mr. Chiseled-Jawline looked over. Their eyes met and suddenly, Elliot was choking. Great. 

Elliot still wasn't over it by the time the guy had introduced himself to just about everyone else and was making his way toward him. With heated cheeks, Elliot briefly met the man's gaze and then shook his hand as they exchanged introductions. 

The guy's name was Paul and he worked as an engineering consult at some company that Elliot had never heard of but apparently was a global conglomerate. Paul had recently transferred from Pittsburgh and was looking to meet new people. 

Maybe it was Elliot's imagination, but it seemed that Paul's hand remained in contact with his a moment longer than necessary. It was large and warm and the skin was soft and... The lights flickered, indicating that they were starting and Elliot disengaged with an apologetic look before taking his seat.

*** 

Paul wasn't late but he hadn't gotten to the hotel as early as he'd planned to, either. Navigating Boston during Friday night rush hour was a hell unto itself and he was cursing his decision to drive the fourth time that he circled the block for a parking space. Not that he had a lot to unpack for the Kinbaku/Shibari class that he was going to lead tonight (he had three lengths of tightly coiled jute tucked into his coat pocket), but he'd wanted the opportunity to mingle before class started, to greet people as they arrived and spend a few minutes with each one. 

Ten or so people were already milling around when Paul got there, but he stopped to talk to the coordinator at the door. "Hi, I'm Paul Blackburn and I'm looking for an Isabelle MacIver?" 

"You can call me Izzy," she said and held out her hand. "I'm so glad that I could rope you into doing this for us..." Izzy winked and Paul chuckled at the pun. 

"It's my pleasure," he winked in return. 

"Seriously though, your move went well, you're settling in fine and all of that?" As he nodded she rifled through her folder and came up with a piece of paper. "And sorry, but can you sign this disclaimer before we start?" 

"Of course." Paul propped the paper against the door frame and penned his signature on the line. When he was finished, he glanced into the room only to find a petite and attractive man staring at him. As soon as their eyes met, the young man began to cough and splutter, and he handed his drink to the girl beside him then turned away. 

"Well, less than five minutes in and you've already managed to embarrass Elliot. That's a new record," Izzy laughed. 

"Oh no..." Paul lamented softly. 

"No, no. Don't worry about it. He's a really sweet guy, but incredibly reserved, quiet. He's come to a number of meetings and a few of us have seen him around, but he never really opens up...well, you'll see, anyway, if you decide to stick around." 

"I'm sure you're all great," Paul said with a final glance at Elliot whose face was covered by his palm. "Anyway, I should get in. I'd like to make acquaintances before the meeting starts. You'll do the introduction?" 

"Of course, Paul. I'm just waiting on a few stragglers. You've got about twenty minutes." 

As Paul made the rounds, he kept an eye on Elliot, who kept giving him the slip until he was the only one left that Paul hadn't introduced himself to. With only minutes to spare, Paul cornered him and began his spiel once again. He'd half expected his conversation with Elliot to be painful, but on the contrary, he found Elliot's shyness rather endearing. Paul suspected the blush on Elliot's cheeks was only vaguely related to his earlier episode and more to do with the fact that he'd been caught staring. Well, now it was Paul's turn to ogle. 

From the distance, Elliot's navy blazer and khakis were unimpressive, but up close, Paul could tell that the jacket was expensive and tailored. It cut in at the waist, giving the illusion of a broader chest than Elliot probably sported, but nicely defined his otherwise lean frame. His shirt was still starched and crisp, the top button of his collar undone and painting quite the picture of how reserved Elliot truly was. Paul wondered if he was aware that his tie, red with squares outlines in thin black lines, was lolling out of his left pocket like a tongue. Forget the jute, Paul had half a mind to give a demonstration of positional bondage using neckties and dress socks. 

Paul actually felt a pang of regret when Izzy flicked the lights, indicating that she was ready to start and judging by the look Elliot had just passed him, the feeling was mutual. Interesting. Paul wondered if Elliot just needed help climbing out of his shell, and after Izzy introduced him, he took the stage, wondering if he called Elliot out, whether the young man would rise to the occasion or politely decline. 

Paul spent a few more minutes expanding on his introduction and then spoke of some of his experiences, just to put the group at ease, though he hoped that he had made it clear that he was no more a master of this than any of them were. 

After that, he opened up the floor, curious to hear about the rest of the group, where they were at, and what sorts of things they were hoping to take away from tonight's meeting. As it turned out, they were a mixed bag of experience and expectations, although that was anything but a surprise. Collectively, they decided on three styles to work on when they reconvened after a short break. 

First, Paul helped himself to some water and made brief and uninteresting small talk with the busty woman that he had seen Elliot standing with before. His eyes wandered back to where Elliot had been sitting and he watched Elliot's deliberate movements as he shrugged out of his blazer and draped it over the back of the chair. Then Elliot's fingers moved toward the buttons on his shirt, which he took down one by one. Paul was sure that such a simple activity should not have caught his attention the way it did, but there was no way that he could look away. Elliot tugged his shirt from his waistband, undid the last two buttons, and then peeled the fabric away from his arms. Shaking out the shirt, Elliot began to fold it, fastidiously smoothing out the wrinkles and neatening the edges. Beneath the suit coat and the button-up, Elliot wore a plain white t-shirt. It was paler than his skin, but only just barely, and he rubbed his newly bared arms as if he were cold. 

"Sorry, would you excuse me?" Paul said to -damn, what was her name?- and headed back over to Elliot. "Hey, Elliot. Sorry to bother you...I realize that this is a little awkward, but I was wondering if you could maybe help me out when we start up?" 

Elliot's eyes skittered over Paul and he looked like he was trying to discern something. Then, he swallowed and lifted one shoulder. "What is it?" 

"Well, I was hoping you'd be up to working with me a bit. Demonstrations work best when you've got a model and it seems you've come alone, so...if you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it." 

Elliot was quiet for so long that Paul was beginning to think that he was being rebuffed. But then, Elliot breathed out audibly and nodded just once. "Sure, okay. I can do that." 

***

"How are you doing, Elliot, is that too tight?" Paul asked, giving the ropes binding Elliot's arms from wrist to elbow behind his back an experimental tug. Elliot's body swayed easily but Elliot didn't respond. Frowning, Paul felt Elliot's fingertips for a chill, but they were warm. He put his hand between Elliot's shoulder blades and leaned to the side so that he could see his face."Elliot?" 

Elliot's head was bowed and his eyes closed, but he carried a slack-jawed expression that made Paul a little concerned. He put his mouth close to Elliot's ear. "Elliot, are you with me?"

A long moment of silence was punctuated by Elliot's wordless hum, which was exceedingly out of place, given the eloquence of their previous, brief conversation. "Shit." Paul sat back on his heels and tried to catch Izzy's eye. When he finally did, he beckoned her over with a jerk of his head. 

"What's up, Paul?" She asked, brushing off her palms. 

"How much time have we got left?" 

"'About fifteen minutes, why?" 

Paul looked down an Elliot and shook his head in wonder. He dropped his voice even lower. "Has Elliot ever checked out during a meeting before?" 

Izzy's eyes bulged. "What?" 

"I think he's in subspace. I'd like to wrap things up without calling too much attention to it. He doesn't strike me as the sort who'd want everyone to know." 

"Jesus. Okay. Um...yeah. Yeah, you're right. What should we do?" 

Paul ruffled a hand through his hair. "Could you untie him and I'll check on everyone and make a few closing statements? Is there someone he's close with that he would prefer to be with him?" 

Izzy's blank look told Paul everything he needed to know and he set about wrapping everything up. By the time everyone had cleared out (and the looks had been more unavoidable that Paul had hoped for), Izzy had Elliot sitting up with his blazer draped over his shoulders. She had one of his hands in hers and though he looked dazed, was at least responsive. 

Elliot blinked slowly as Paul knelt in front of him and took his other hand. "How are you feeling, Elliot?" 

"Fine. Good." Elliot suddenly smiled and pulled his hands away from both of them. He rubbed his face and then examined his palms. "I want to go home." 

"I told him I'd take him home," Izzy said. "We both take the train, but it's going to be a bitch getting him to the station-he's still out of it and I'm not sure how long-" 

"I'll drive him," Paul interjected, and then realized how potentially creepy that seemed. "Both of you. Please, I feel responsible." 

Elliot carried no wallet but in the inner pocket of his blazer, there was what appeared to be a vintage-style cigarette case. On one side was a neat row of cigarettes and on the other was his ID, a debit card, and some cash. 

By the time the three of them made it to Elliot's place, Elliot was in much better control of his faculties, and of course, seemed embarrassed. 

"If you could just give me a minute," Paul said, leaning across Elliot to Izzy. Then he offered his hand to Elliot, who climbed out of the backseat of his own accord. 

"I'm fine," Elliot said, feeling in his trouser pocket and coming up with two keys on a silver, monogrammed ring. "I can make it from here. Thank you for the ride." 

"If it's all the same, I'll walk you to the door," Paul asserted. Elliot shrugged and led the way to the locked set of front doors. He fumbled with the keys long enough that Paul took them from him in order to let them in. 

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me about what happened tonight Elliot, but I'd like to know that you're going to talk to someone about it." Paul said, gently touching Elliot's shoulder. 

Elliot sighed. "I'm sure Mark would love to hear about it." 

"Is that your...partner?" Paul asked, pushing the button for the elevator when Elliot stopped in front of it. 

"My therapist," Elliot deadpanned. The doors opened and he stepped on, jabbing the _6_ with the knuckle of his middle finger. 

Paul blinked and reached into his own pocket, pulling out his business card. He tucked it into Elliot's breast pocket. "I would appreciate it if you let me know that you're okay, and of course, if you decide you need some company..." 

"I'm-" Elliot started as the elevator doors opened. 

Paul finished for him as they stepped off. "Fine, I know. It's just that I didn't realize things had gotten so intense, though. And I'm not in the practice of abandoning my...playing partners...after a scene." 

"You think you fucked something up," Elliot replied, stopping in front of a door a short way down the hall. Paul unlocked it and handed the key chain back to Elliot, who stepped neatly over the threshold and turned. "Well, you didn't. That privilege belongs to someone else, and we can both blame him for tonight." 

"Is this the first time you've...done rope work since then?" Paul delicately skirted around the heavy topic. 

"No." Elliot fingered the door jamb as he looked at the floor. His Adam's apple bobbed and he looked back up at Paul. "But you never know when the ghosts of your past will resurface." 

"Elliot, I..." Paul wasn't sure what he meant to say, and stood there looking at the sour expression on Elliot's face. 

Suddenly, Elliot leaned forward, embracing Paul briefly. "Thank you," he said as he pulled away. Paul didn't have the opportunity to ask what for. Elliot receded into his darkened apartment and shut the door.


End file.
